


Forlorn

by Iwrteficsnottragedies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Before and After, Depressed Sirius Black, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, I hate myself and so does Sirius :), I wrote this to cope, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, Post prank???, Remus tries to talk Sirius out of it, Runaway Sirius Black, Self-Harm, Suicidal Sirius Black, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, but im not that good at writing that but I'm trying so give me a chance, but in the far distance as well, hospitalized sirius black, sirius's thoughts are just my own, so you can slowly put the pieces together, sorry gals and pals I'm depressed, the time line switches between before and after the attempt, we'll get there soon enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwrteficsnottragedies/pseuds/Iwrteficsnottragedies
Summary: He would allow this one moment, despite how selfish it was, to relish everything. The wholeness of it all. The way the wind nipped at his skin and blew through his shirt. How the starlight tangled through his darken hair so delicately. The rise and pull of his lungs. Alive.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

"Sirius please."

Sirius shook his head rapidly with tears running down his face. He couldn't accept it. Not after what he's done. Remus was only here because be was a decent person. He might have cared but that didn't mean he should.

"Please, Sirius. _Please_."

Sirius' grip on the railing tightens, his knuckles whitening and fingers digging into the rust.

Incapable of words, Sirius shook his head again. Remus needed to go. He was wasting his time on him who simply didn't deserve it. Sirius was being selfish.

He was so selfish just for existing. For being a fraud. He was worthless and yet here he was, messing with other people's lives, tainting everything in his path even though he knew it was wrong. He should be isolated. He should be tortured. He didn't deserve any mercy. It was laughable to say he was even worth being the scum underneath someone's shoes.

Sirius looked down at the ground. He never really noticed how tall the astronomy tower really was.

 _down down down down_...

'Suicide' seemed so big. Drastic. Unfathomable. He could hardly imagine that's what he was up here to do. The concept seemed fake. What he was doing didn't really count as that...did it? He was doing what was necessary. To rid himself of the world.

"James is coming, yeah? You can see him. Just come back on the other side of the rail..."

Somewhere far away he noticed the absolute desperation is his friend's scared, shaky tone. That didn't matter right now. He needed to get exactly what he deserved. This...this was the only path that he could do good on.

Even death would be too kind for him. He deserved more pain. Or was that also selfish? If he wanted more pain that meant he didn't deserve it but he was was a horrible person so it was just a fact so-

A horrible sob racked through him. It was so noisy. Constant back in fourth. Nothing was ever pleased.

_Selfish_

_Worthless_

_Disgusting_

_Burden_

_Worthless_

_Burden_

_Worthless_

_Burden_

_You don't deserve to see the light of day._

_Rude._

_Lazy_.

_Selfish._

Both hands flew up to his head trying to block it out. He couldn't do it anymore. It was so so so _much_.

Remus let out a noise of fear as both his hands left anything to keep him steady. One move and he'll be falling to his death.

 _Good_.

"James, Peter, and I. We love you. Please, whatever it is we can help just-" he chokes. Sirius has never heard his voice sound so fragile.

_He shouldn't be. Don't deserve it._

He could hear his heavy breathing from his rapid heart. "Whatever it is, we'll help you. I promise."

After a prolonged silence, Remus takes a step forward.

"Don't!" Sirius yelps with his face filled with terror. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"Padfoot..."

"No!"

Remus raises his hands in surrender.

Sirius stares at the sight. This wasn't right. Everything was wrong. He shouldn't be the one causing pain onto such a kind person.

Softly, he speaks. " You're just too nice. You don't g-" he chokes, "don't understand."

"Please, Sirius, please. Help me understand. I want to help."

Sirius grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls down on it roughly

"No...deserve it...hate- understand."

"You don't deserve it."

"Shut up!"

Remus flinches. Sirius almost vomits.

"You- don't _understand_! No one...! don't have it...guts. Act on it.... towards me because of it. Too nice to see- but I do! Should be p-" Sirius chokes, trying to make sense of it all. "Punished for it."

"You're....not making any sense, Siri. You're amazing. You don't have a mean bone in your body. You're all jokes and warmth." Remus tries to laugh pathetically wiping his eyes. "You're Sirius Black! A marauder. How could anyone hate you?"

"You should."

Remus falters. "You don't mean that. This isn't you speaking, you have to know that. The Sirius I know-"

"Is rotten."

"No! No _no_. He's kind, loving, adored-"

It only causes Sirius to cry harder. Remus didn't understand, none of them did. Everyone was too kind to face the truth that he deserved this.

_shouldn't be here shouldn't be here shouldn't be here shouldn't be here shouldn't be here shouldn't be here-_

He had to do what was right.

Sirius glanced down at the ground again. No, he needed this.

The wind was chill, and the stars above burned with the brilliant sapphire pallor of electric light. He could faintly make out the outline of Canis Major, usually the brightest the sky, now oddly dulled. Or perhaps it was just Sirius's now fucked up brain that saw these things so clearly now.

His parents would finally be proud of him for something at least.

"Padfoot, please listen to me! I don't care what you think, you don't deserve anything like this. You deserve to be happy and loved."

The salty tears the grazed his blotchy face and lips were swallowed back with disdain. His throat was becoming sore of it already.

Remus was finally right. He didn't. This was too easy. He hasn't suffered enough.

"Talk to me." Remus pleads desperately as if he as dying with his own tear stream down his cheeks, his whole face is red. It was all his fault.

"You don't get it." He felt pathetic. He can't even get out anything other than those words over and over. Why couldn't he go away? It's easier for them both.

"I don't but if you give me the chance I'll let you explain all you want. Please."

Sirius's fist clenched. He already had and he rejected it. Said he was _wrong_ of all things. He was so oblivious about how horrible Sirius really was. He had them all fooled somehow.

_Impostor_ _._

They wouldn't care about him if he really knew who he was inside. They'll think the same things as he would. They'll understand what he's doing was right.

His foot trembled on the edge. He would allow this one moment, despite how selfish it was, to relish everything. The wholeness of it all. The way the wind nipped at his skin and blew through his shirt. How the starlight tangled through his darken hair so delicately. The rise and pull of his lungs. Alive.

_"No!"_

The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell.

Everything was gone.


	2. part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I wasn't planning on a second piece but here you go to the one person who requested it-

_**Hogwarts Hospital Wing, May 1977** _

Sirius laid there quietly, keeping his eyes closed, matching his breaths to match the beeps that surrounded the bed, the only indications of his heartbeat, his existence. His legs were numb.

Curiosity slowly pried open his swollen eyes to meet a dismal view of a magnolia colored room with the door a painted navy blue. Sirius immediately knew it was locked. It was to keep him in there, not them out. He slid his eyes sideways. They'd handcuffed his wrists to the bed bars.

He redirected his gaze to the ceiling. It was a blank canvas and a mirror for his thoughts. He feels the chill in his blood, coldness bringing the synapses of his brain to still. Part of it is a pain, yet one he can endure, one he can sleep through night after night without the anesthesia of false hope.

Being empty is not really being empty. It's because happiness is a pleasing weight that sits on you more often than not, like how air pressure sits on you, and you just don't notice it. But, when you are sad, that weight drops off giving the illusion you are weightless or 'empty'. But you are never really empty, you're just full of the wrong thing. Sirius honestly had no idea which was worse. He also didn't really care or even had the energy too.

He wanted to go to sleep. Fade.

"Mr. Black?"

The door creaks open. It was Madam Pomfrey; she was holding a tray of food with her. Sirius supposed that meant he was still in Hogwarts then. They hadn't shipped him off to the nearest madhouse yet. They had isolated him though. He didn't know if that was a good sign or not. At the very least he had privacy.

"Good, you're awake. Time to eat dear. You've been out for quite some time." She says placing it down on the nightstand next to him. His wand was gone from it's usual and replaced with a small vase of sunflowers.

Sirius stared at her and then back up at the wall. It wasn't as if he wasn't hungry, just some feelings are more powerful than others. He _wanted_ to go back to sleep.

Madam Pomfrey looked down at him sadly as she reached over to release the cotton-lined restraints. Sirius stared at her blankly as he allowed her to do it without fighting back. For the first time he notices the gauze wrapped tightly around an upper forearm. _His_ arm. Sirius couldn't quite grasp the concept.

"How much do you remember?"

It hurt to focus his attention on her. Her voice was sweet and soothing, everything that made someone unwillingly respond, but he simply couldn't open his mouth. He tried again only to feel as if he was choking. Given up, he stares off to the side again.

It wasn't like in books where they woke up absent-minded and confused about how they got there. Sirius knew exactly what he had done. Whether he was happy or distraught he was sitting in the bed he was now hadn't really caught up with him yet. He remembered bits and pieces. Most of it was fuzzy. He remembered the fight in the corridor, Remus' voice coaxing him to come back across the railing, the fire flickering from his lighter and blistering his skin.

"You've been out for two whole days."

Two days. Why was he still so exhausted then?

"That machine right there- it's been feeding sleeping drought into you. Nutrients potions as well. You're about two and a half stones underweight. You were taken off of the first only a couple hours ago. How do you feel?"

Sirius shifts his shoulders slightly causing the mediwitch to hum. She tinkered with something to the right of him before looking back down at him. He could see the pity and sadness in her eyes. A faraway part of him knew he should have shrunk under it, desperately trying to fit into exactly what she was trying to find. People didn't look for what they didn't expect. Now he couldn't care less.

"Do you want me to help you sit up?"

Truthfully Sirius wanted her to go away. He couldn't be with his thoughts peacefully with her own interrupting every couple of seconds. He was dissociating, he knew it. He had had a problem with it for the past couple of months. Usually James was there to snap him out of it before something bad happened. Not this time. It was like being stuck between two realities: one that was imperfect, but doable. The other the vision where he pictured himself in, the one he longed himself to be a part of. Inky darkness. Was it a possibility to make that world into reality?

Some said that when you die, you will meet a robed skeleton holding a scythe. Some said you go to Heaven or Hell. Some say that you are reincarnated. Some say you turn into a ghost, while some say you sleep for eternity.

Maybe that had happened for others. Not for him, though.

He never met the Grim Reaper's scythe that would take his soul. He never met the pearly white gates to Heaven, and he never went down the stairs to Hell to face his punishment, and hear the screams of the dead. Instead, cold tendrils had embraced Sirius like a lover, his vision fading. He felt nothing. There was no emotion, no heavyweight upon his shoulders; just the feeling of floating, of being part of the world... Of being part of the stars.

He had been so close. Why couldn't he have stayed there?

He faintly registered the nurse pulling him up and spooning something into his mouth. It looked like porridge, though, he couldn't taste it. His mind flew to his mother. He hated the muck-ish food as a child before Hogwarts. She made it every morning to spite him and threatened to shove it down his throat. She did. Once.

Sirius blinked and then the entire bowl was gone. His mind had a habit of doing that; blacking out on the boring bits and skipping to the important scenes.

She's talking to him now. Sirius can't hear her. He wonders if something is wrong with him.

**&**

When he wakes up a second time his friends are there.

James is on his right with a transfigured armchair pulled up right next to him. He's talking in whispers to Peter who's sitting on a bench in the corner and they're talking about something. Remus is passed out on his left, his head resting on the edge of the bed.

He's much more alert than last time. He moves his fingers a couple times to test it and discovers he has full control. Sirius gulps uneasily while staring down at them. He didn't want to have control anymore. The privilege had already come and gone. It was too confusing. Was that mad? Wanting to go back to being catatonic? Others would gladly grasp back at being able to sense, feel, _live_ their surroundings, not watching their lives play out in front of them from a foggy movie lense.

He really was becoming insane. It ran in the blood, he supposed. It was only about time the Black in him finally kicked in. That didn't stop him from being utterly terrified.

The others hadn't noticed he was awake yet. They would want to talk to him about what happened and why he'd done it and Sirius wouldn't be able to handle that just yet. Explaining to someone why he was disgusting was a chore in itself. They never believed him so what was the point of wasting all his energy? James was a stubborn bastard and wouldn't even let him get a word out of his mouth without rejecting it. Remus was too but wouldn't cancel him outright. Peter...he had no idea what he would do.

 _I tried to kill myself,_ Sirius thinks to himself. _Suicide. I jumped._ It seems so unreal and bigger than he could ever be. He's heard stories about how awful it was for the families that are left behind. It was a dark, gruesome taboo. What he did had to be something else because there was no way the events from the night was that.

"He's awake! Padfoot, hey."

He turns his to meet the hazel eyes of his best friend. They're filled with an emotion Sirius can't place. The usual grin on his face is replaced with a frown and his hair is a mess. He hardly doubts he's seen any sleep for the past couple of days. A tidal wave of guilt washes over him and he can hardly breathe.

Remus, always the heavy sleeper, doesn't even flinch at James's exclamation. Peter stood from his seat and touched the base of the werewolf's neck just barely. A soft spot they found in their third year. The memory nearly was enough to make Sirius smile.

Remus leaps up from his seat with a yelp. His eyes are wide as his hands fly up to his neck. The seat from underneath him is nearly kicked back to the ground. Remus had never grown out of being ticklish, something he was still insecure about.

When he sees Sirius awake though he stops. Their eyes meet and for a second Sirius can swear he can see fear.

Sirius bites his tongue, eyes trying desperately everywhere to zone in on but Remus. But then the other moves closer with eyes that look so deeply his own, "Sirius." His voice becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. Sirius' body squirms just a little as Remus' muscles relax.

He can't imagine what the other is feeling at that moment. The worst part is that Sirius doesn't even regret his decision. He'll do it ten times over.

"Are...you alright?"

"M'fine."

The three boys around his bed looking at him dubiously. It makes Sirius's skin crawl. They had always known Sirius got down sometimes just never the full extent of it. He'd always been careful to tip-toe around the subject. After all, it wasn't something you normally talked about. It was... embarrassing. You sucked that kind of stuff up and dealt with it. Now Sirius had astronomically fucked up. They knew everything and there was nothing he could do about it. It was like watching sand seep through your fingers and blow away in the wind.

"You are _not_. You scared us. I haven't been able to think of anything since. When they raised your body back up... Crowley, Pads. If the safe-guard charms hadn't been there I don't know what I would have done."

So that's what happened. He would have to look into all the other towers. There had to be a fault in the system somewhere. There had to be. No one was that thorough.

"I'm sorry," Sirius says because he feels like he should. He knew what would happen to them if he died and yet had done it anyways. It was selfish and he should feel remorse, but he didn't. Only that he had caused grief to someone who didn't deserve it. Something he always did while alive, so what difference was it if he was because he was dead? The second one at least had him doing something to correct that. He had told himself through some sick understanding that it was fine, great, because it was for the better good and he still believed that. There was simply too much evidence not too.

"Sirius... please tell us what's wrong. We can't help you if you don't talk to us."

 _That's the point_ , is what Sirius wants to say. Reaching out was selfish, but not doing it was just as bad. Where was he supposed to win?

"You almost died," Peter comments to fill in the silence. Remus shoots him a glare. Sirius's throats start to clog up again.

"I know."

"Why?"

As much as he tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from his throat in the form of a silent scream. The tears burst forth like a leak in a dam, spilling down Sirius's face. He feels the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child and he looks toward the window as if the light could soothe him. _Because I wanted to. Because I deserved it._ There is static in his head again. The side effect of the inner self-loathing and turmoil he lives with daily. His sounds come out like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of Sirius he didn't know he had left to give.

"Shit- Peter get Poppy!"

"No, please don't," Sirius begs. He goes to wipe the fast-moving tears off his face only to be reminded of the restraints put on his wrist. Looking at them now made what he did so much more real. He tugs on them again sporadically and forcefully. They won't budge, he knows they won't, but it seems like the only thing worth doing. "James, please! Don't call her." He had to look insane to them. Handcuffed to a _bed_ of all things, yelling, looking as if he hasn't eaten or bathed in days.

"Hey, hey Padoot, shh. Calm down. I won't get her if you don't want, okay?" James wraps his wrist, the unbandaged part, and pushes it back down to the bed to calm him. Given up, Sirius lays back down and stares back at the roof with the hot tears pool in his eyes and down his face.

He was pathetic.

Peter grabs a glass of water off the bedside and helps Sirius take a sip. At first he tries to reject it, but as soon as it hits his lips he's gulping the entire glass down. He hadn't realized how thirsty he had become in his sleep. It's nectar going down his throat.

"Mum used to force me to drink sometimes and upset. It helped stop the tears sometimes. She said you couldn't drink and cry at the same time..."

"I'm not a child." Sirius protests despite knowing it was pointless. He couldn't even feed himself without someone else now. Surely that was enough for his friends to realize they were wrong about him? Seeing him strapped up...

"We know you aren't. That doesn't mean we can't help you. Or that we don't want to. You've done the same thing with me dozens of times with the full moons and..." Remus soothes, grabbing a tissue to wipe off Sirius' face before sitting back down again.

He wanted to protest. It absolutely did mean that. He was pathetic and not helping him should be _obvious_ but they were just too nice to see it that way. That would mean Remus also didn't deserve help if he rejected though and he absolutely did. Their situations were entirely different and couldn't possibly be compared on the same level. They had somehow trapped him into a box and he had no choice but to nod and comply for the sake of civility.

"Sirius please say something."

"I don't want to be here. When can I get out?"

James sighs deeply and rubs his face. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Sirius looks over at Remus who's doing the same thing. Peter was biting the side of his thumbnail, a nervous habit he had when he was trying to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm fine."

"You're hurt."

"When am I not?"

James runs his finger through his mop of hair. "It's more than that and you know it."

"What are you going to do? Ship me off to the closest insane asylum? I'm fine. I can take care of myself and I'm not going to go off murdering people so bugger off."

"Fuck, don't say that! You just freaked out about us trying to get help and you don't see anything wrong?" James snaps. He rarely ever got angry and when he did it wasn't a pretty sight.

"James-"

"I know you agree with me so don't try it," James warns. "He doesn't understand! He tried to-"

"I know but do you really think this is the time and the place for it?"

James huffs then looks down at his friend. "Sirius you're sick. You have to realize that right?"

Sirius shrugs _._ Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. Either way he was still a bad person and that would remain a fact. The way he saw it he was just doing what a reasonable person would have done ages ago. Along the way someone just happened to mark him down as crazy.

Madam Pomfrey must have heard the noise from her office because she came swooping in moments later. Sirius' body freezes by itself at the sight of her. He doesn't know why exactly; she's the same person who has been dealing with his injuries since he was eleven years old. Something about it now made it all too intimate for his liking.

"Mr. Potter! Out! I will not have you disturbing my patient!"

"But Poppy-"

"No! Out!"

James is about to protest when Remus shakes his head cutting him off. "Go with Peter. I'll meet up with you later."

He shakes his head and glares sternly at the witch. "If you think I'm leaving my best mate you're insane. You're going to have to drag me out by hand before that happens."

Her face softens slightly at the reaction but if there was one thing he had learned over the years it was that she was a stubborn woman. "He needs to rest and he can't do that with your yelling, Potter."

"I'll sit outside then, but I'm not leaving."

Sirius glances at the wall behind the two of them. James cared about him. Sometimes a little too much. He took their company as something to hold sacred as it wasn't something he of all people should take advantage of. What had he ever done that earned so much loyalty? 


	3. chapter two

**_Platform 9 ¾, September 1976_ **

On September the first the platform was a seething mass of humanity. Every wizard in the UK seemed to be shoulder to shoulder, in each other's faces, no personal space, no exceptions. There were parents giving their children goodbye hugs, wiping tears from their faces, making sure they had everything they needed before leaving for the next four months. Other parents, mostly ones from long lineages of pureblood aristocratic families, thought they were above such shows of affection and instead settled for solemn faces and belittling attitudes towards the side. The Blacks, unfortunately, were one of them. 

Sirius wanted nothing more than to tear his shoulder away from the grip on his shoulder. But alas, it stayed locked on firmly as a show to all the other pureblood families around as if to say,  _ ‘See? I told you we could tame him.’  _ But Sirius knew better. It was a warning, a threat, to not embarrass the family name as he had done every year before. It made his bones ache in memory of the past months. 

It wasn’t that he was  _ scared - _ he was a Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake - it was the fact he was tired. Not that he would admit that to anyone either. It was as if he was a caged animal fighting for release until they ran themself empty. He felt rather pathetic at the notion. 

But now that he was staring up at the scarlet steam engine he could hardly feel the longing he wished for it all summer. If anything, it was dread. 

“ _ Sirius _ ,” a voice whispered inside his ear. “Keep you’re head up, you’re embarrassing us. Show some respect.” The venom in his mother’s voice never once faltered her stony expression. That would mean showing emotion and Blacks did  _ not _ let anyone, especially the filthy muggle-borns and muggles on the platform, meddle into their affairs.

Without a word, Sirius straightened his back and pushed his hair out of his face. It was too much to ask him to fake the practiced grin he reserved for his schoolmates with whatever he was feeling sprouting inside his chest. He instead settled for the same stony expression as his parents. At least that way he could please both sides.

His brother stood next to him barely acknowledging his existence. Regulus had spent nearly the entire break avoiding him save for the few times to lecture Sirius to keep his head down. 

_ “You’re making it worse on yourself, can’t you see that? Just do as they say and none of this would happen. You’re almost of age. You can’t keep doing this, Sirius.” _

He missed his brother, and he means the real one. Not the one that his parent's influence had gotten to. He could still see the boy that helped him play pranks on Kreacher when they were younger slip through at times but he was always gone just as quick. Sometimes he thinks there might have been hope for his little brother if he’d just let himself be put in Slytherin so he could stay with him instead of forcing the hat the other way.

“I expect you to do us proud. No mixing around with the wrong crowd again, yes?”

Sirius doesn’t respond. If possible Walburgas’s face hardens even more. She didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that no matter how many times she beat and cursed his proper lineage into her son, he would never be their perfect pureblood heir.

“Regulus,” she snaps, “keep your brother in line. Send an owl if he continues.”

“Yes mother,” he simply responds. Sirius' hands twitch to throw a punch at him. 

Orion places a hand on his wife's shoulder. “Not here.” He had always been the calmer of the two but that didn’t mean his viciousness didn’t run any less deep. 

She gives a stiff nod to Regulus and a pointed stare at Sirius before turning around back to the apparition points. They had much better things to do than stay inside a crowded station with what they considered scum under their shoe just to see their children off.

When they were gone, Regulus gave him a side glance. “You should listen to them, you know. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Sirius snorted. He heads to the train without as much of a glance to his brother. 

There’s a weight on his shoulders as he walks. Almost as if every single person is looking at him. He takes it in grace, ignoring the pull in his stomach that had controlled him all summer. 

Others would look at him and see nothing out of the ordinary just like his father had carefully instructed. The deep cuts etched across his face like a five-year-old with a pair of scissors were carefully covered up in a charm. This wouldn’t stop James and Peter though - they had already seen the worse of it on multiple occasions through the mirror. The ones scaring his face at least. Remus had been saved the actual bulk of it but no doubt the other two had written him letters.

The three boys knew of his family's discontentment for him. After all, Sirius didn’t bother keeping it a secret by spitting his last name out like vile on his tongue and burning any letter with his family crest on it. It was, however, an unspoken decision to not talk about it. Perhaps the others were too scared they might say something to set Sirius into another one of his moods, or that he’ll clam up again. Sirius was glad for that part at least because the less he said about it the better. Hogwarts was where he was supposed to go to escape his family, not whine about it. 

Besides, others had it worse than him. Remus was the perfect example. He suffered much worse than him and _ he _ didn’t complain, right? Sirius was rich. He was privileged due to his blood status and his last name he could take him anywhere he so pleased despite how much he fought against it. Remus had none of those things and yet he was one of the strongest people he knew, so Sirius would suck it up.

He found Wormtail in a carriage easily. The pudgy boy jumped up at the sight of him, clearly worried about his arrival. Sirius merely acknowledged him with a nod of his head before plopping down near the window seat. Peter frowned.

“Hi,” he said cautiously. He held out the package of Caramel Cobwebs he was eating from. “Want some? James is in the bathroom.”

Sirius eyed the bag. His stomach rolled at the sight of it. The dread of the upcoming school year and his parent's threats (and curses) were enough to make him lose his appetite all throughout the summer. He took some nonetheless so Peter wouldn’t be concerned. He kept it in his hand, not eating it. The blonde boy didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” 

Peter looks down at his fingers nervously, not knowing what to say. He had never been good with comforting people, Sirius knew. Peter always tried to show his appreciation by doing things for people, always being there even when they wished the person just wished they left them alone.

Sirius sighs, his breath fogging up the window against his cheek. “I’m fine. Really. How about a game of Snap?”

Peter’s smile slowly reforms. “Great. I’ll deal.”

Sirius pulls himself off from the window with great effort. He wants nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep because _ ‘He’s finally here. He’s made it.’  _ But he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned for him. 

He can tell Peter wants to ask about the sudden disappearance of injuries. They had seen them only the day before in the mirror. (Peter only lived down the road from Potter Manor and often visited James when they were scheduled to meet). Instead, Peter began to talk about the loud snoring of his uncle who came to visit a couple weeks prior allowing Sirius’ mind to roam freely to what was to come.

James comes busting from the crowded corridor hall, his arms heavy in Honeydukes sweets. His face lights up just like Peter’s only he allows himself to throw his arms around his friend. Sirius stifles a wince as he presses against the large bruise on his shoulder. 

“Padfoot! You look like shite mate.” James grins playfully.

Sirius bites back a remark about how his father would be disappointed his hard work had gone to waste and instead puts on a fake grin. 

“I could fly hoops around you mate, nice try. Those slime balls haven’t gotten the best of me yet. Nice try trying too.”

Peter seemed more at ease now that James was in the cart to diffuse the tension. He quickly initiated a conversation about the Quidditch cup that summer. He could see James eying him through the whole thing, desperate to ask him if he was okay. And Sirius would respond the same thing as always, that he was fine and James was being a period bugger, then everything would be fine for a while until Sirius does something to fuck everything up and the whole cycle would start again.

Sirius hardly notices when Remus finally comes in. James has to snap in front of his vision a few times to shake him out of his thoughts. He curses himself internally seeing James’ face pulled together in concern.

Remus has a new scar across his face from the last time he’d seen him. He knows  _ logically _ it’s not his fault but he can’t help the stab of guilt that goes through him. It wasn’t as if it was  _ his _ fault his mother forbade him from sending letters over the summer (though some sicker part of his brain told him it was). The two hadn’t talked once that wasn’t through James since June and didn’t help that he was the one he needed to talk to  _ most. _

_ ‘I expect you to do us proud. No mixing around with the wrong crowd again, yes?’ _

Remus smiles shyly at him as he sat down on the bench next to him. James and Peter were still having an intense debate about defense v.s offense dynamics of Quidditch.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.”

It was too awkward. Sirius  _ hated _ awkward. But what were you supposed to say to someone who’d you last saw three months ago, covered in blood and yelling at them to leave you alone?

“You alright?”

Sirius’ throat clogs up. The dread from this morning makes a vicious return. He wishes for nothing more at that moment than to disappear. He’ll take a thousand more of his mother's curses than to face this.

“Brilliant,” he lies through a plastered grin. “Has Padfoot’s told you he finally has  _ every _ single chocolate frog card?”

Remus snorts. “Oh, really?”

Sirius let a bit of the tension in his shoulders deflate. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. This was normal. It was okay. Maybe they could pretend the thing never happened or that it was an accident. He’ll be fine.

Sirius had always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by while on the train. It was so different from the dark gloomy chill that filled the air everywhere he grew up. Yet the tiredness that begun that morning remains like a veil over his skin, grey and cold. And as he watched the petals and the twigs that rush past the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be relief. It sits like November rain on his skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. 

**&**

**_Hogwarts Hospital Wing, May 1977_ **

Sometimes, he wonders what it would be like. To still love the sun and the rain, and be able to soar in the breeze on a broomstick. It's still now; he hasn’t seen it in a while stuck in this stuffy room. The time had become measureless, and it dissolved into itself, as shapeless as the rain. He’s tired of waiting for the breeze to come and disperse the fog that brings the rain. He’s tired. He hates it, that he finds no more joy in the sun and the rain, conversations with his friends, or running through the castle causing mischief. Things are changing; the world no longer moves as it once did, the trees no longer bent to him so carelessly, he no longer sees the fairies in the blades of grass. Maybe he was growing up like Regulus and his parents always wanted him to. Thoughts of the rain clouded his head, invade his dull thoughts - they nearly become him. He can only think of the rain because the rain is inviting, and the cold makes his breath catch in his chest and him realize he was alive - he was breathing which means his heart must be beating, which means he must be feeling but he’s not feeling - why is he not feeling?

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t what he was used to. Ever since he woke up for the first time it all feels like some dreary dream. Pomfrey said it was the medication he was on making him feel so monotone to life. He didn’t know if that was better or worse, to not have the jarring feeling inside him constantly or feel life like a sock puppet, always acting to someone else's tune. 

“Hey mate,” the familiar voice calls from behind him. Faintly he hears a bag drop and a chair being pushed up against his bed. “How are you feeling?”

He’s glad James is here this time. Usually, it was some strange battle of wanting him to stay or cursing his name to leave him ‘the bloody fuck alone’. 

Sirius uses as much energy as much as can spare to turn over and face his best friend. He knows he probably looks disgusting, his hair greasy from not having taken a shower in the past couple of days and blood-shot eyes. At least now he doesn’t have those ridiculous hand-cuffs strapping him to the bed after them realizing he wasn’t about to run off and murder someone. Maybe that's why Pomfrey drugged him. 

“Hey,” he finally gets out. He doesn’t bother to answer the question because they both know what the answer will be. 

James’ face softens. “Bad day?”

Sirius closes his burning eyes and nods. There hasn’t been a good one in weeks. 

“Poppy says you can get out here soon,” James says softly. 

That was enough for Sirius to open his eyes. He’d been asking ever since day one and she refused to tell him. She kept saying he was ‘unstable’ but Sirius doesn’t know how that could be if he couldn’t feel a  _ damn thing. _ “When?”

“Next Wednesday. You’ll have to come in twice a day for checkups, of course. And take your medicine.”

He hated his damn medicine. He didn’t need it. It made everything worse. He’d already fought with the witch on multiple occasions about it but she threatened to spell it into his stomach if he resisted her one more time. 

James must have sensed his discomfort at it because he sighed deeply. “I know you don’t want to but it’s for the better. We just want you to get better. It hurts seeing you like this. You deserve better”

Sirius squeezes his eyes closed again. On a normal day, he would feel the guilt flare up inside him and silently burn him to ashes. Instead, he could only hear the steady drumming of his brain ridiculing him from all sides on repeat.

He’s hurt James. Everyone. And it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have been so bloody  _ stupid _ to not think about the side effects of his actions on them. It doesn’t matter that he  _ had  _ (he thought he was doing them good and he was, wasn’t he? He couldn’t see it any other way), his brain would always would find some way to swerve around the obvious wall in the road on it’s way to destruction.

James is a good friend – his best friend – and over the years he has become like a brother to Sirius. But he still doesn’t fully understand all the self-hatred and suffering that is pressed upon Sirius by his own mind. To be fair, Sirius doesn’t fully understand it either. Why some days he feels well enough to plan out elaborate pranks, complete his homework, and go out on the Quidditch pitch, while other days he struggles to leave his bed, doesn’t shower or brush his teeth, and doesn’t eat unless someone (usually Remus) brings him food.

“Sirius,” James's voice is quiet, pained. 

He hand itches for his lighter. That was another thing insufferable about this place; he couldn’t handle it the way he was used to. One of the primary reasons for his self-harm was to try to avoid hurting the people he loves, by dealing with his issues privately rather than letting his friends see him hurting. It had started out with an accidental burn from his cigarette and evolved into his daily routine. The way the lighter lapped at his skin and stung for days afterward was a reminder what he was doing was  _ right  _ despite what his friends said. It was a safe area he could dangle himself in. He never did it in areas where other people could notice and instead settled for areas the burns will cause the most irritation: his hipbones, and occasionally, his ribs. 

The bandages on his arms currently were an exception. He hadn’t been thinking straight then. He was frantic and hadn’t thought to be careful. Carlessness had let Remus find him with that godamn stupid map. He should have taken it with him, he knew. It was stupid not to. He could have gotten away with it. He had been  _ so close. _

In a weird way, he almost believes that by hurting himself he can protect those he loves from being hurt. But obviously that isn’t working out, because James and everyone else knows about it and all he can see on his friend’s face is sadness and confusion. The truth was, he could try to justify it any way he wanted, but he still knew it wasn’t right that he was drawn to hurt himself. It was symptomatic of the fucked-up nature of his brain – this need to punish himself for never being good enough.

“I’m fine, mate. Seriously. The sooner I get out of here the better, eh? I feel like I’m suffocating in here. You’d think they’d at least put on a better form of entertainment,” he gestures lazily to the stack of textbooks the medi-witch had brought up for him. 

“Yeah,” James says despite not looking convinced. Sirius desperately wished things would go back to how they used to be. Things were awkward now. “Yeah okay. How about a game of Snap then?”

Apathy washes over him like heavy water, holding him to the ground and only letting some of the sunlight in. Under the blue there is nothing else that matters, nothing significant worthy of his time. He thinks about the rain again and the fog in his head again. How desperate he is to see it because then at least he will feel alive and not just be mummified remains of someone worth it.

He pushes himself up and lets the bedcovers slip off of thin, pale legs. “Alright.”


	4. chapter three

**_Gryffindor 6th year dorms, September 1976_ **

He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, watching it disappear in the cloud of smoke out into the cool air before it dispersed. He sucked in again and felt as that sweet burning sensation curled throughout his lungs and throat, ripping its way to his head he finally let it out in a huge cloud watching the light create abstract colors out of the light mist still hanging in the air. It brought a sweet rush to his fingers knowing that this was indeed, an illegal substance. For him, anyway. He was underage.

The rest of the dorm was cleaned out of people leaving him alone by the window seal. Not that any of them would have minded. The harmful habit was shared between the four boys - well, except for Peter with the poor excuse that it gave him a headache but that didn't stop him from joining in on the fun once in a while.

They had all left dinner and Sirius had stayed back saying he still had summer homework to finish up before their first defense class the next day. It wasn't hard to believe really, seeing as the fact Sirius' parents had been petitioning for years to have the 'ridiculous' class removed from Hogwarts curriculum, therefore not allowing their either sons to finish said classes' work in their household. It wouldn't have made a difference really seeing as Sirius was one of the best in the class. It was fuelled by pure spite.

So Sirius sat in thought, something he hardly ever did if you asked anyone else. But he needs to gather his bearings for the upcoming school year or else he'll be a wall made out of exploding snap cards for the next few months. There was a mindset he wore here that he had yet been able to slip into. It became harder and harder every time he managed to claw his way back to the brief asylum. No matter what he did this time, he could not shake the creeping iniquity that followed him like a shadow he'd carried from his home.

He wondered if this is what Remus felt like near the full moons. A thin thread of dread wrapped neatly around your lungs, ready to constrict at any moment but it doesn't ever happen except you know it  _ can  _ so that lining of anxiety never really goes away.

The rich benignant cigarette smoke eddied coolly down his throat; he puffed it out again in rings which breasted the air bravely for a moment; blue, circular. It calmed him down enough to get a grip on his thoughts.

It was their third day back in term. The salves and pain-numbing potions the others had given him had caused most of the damage to his body to have faded away already. James had tried to talk about it to him multiple times and was waved off every time. He could handle it by himself and he would. It wasn't as if he didn't trust his friends, only that there was no need to burden his friends with matters that could be dealt with on their own. Talking was a last resort saved for the dead of night when whispered conversations meant so much more.

_ 'Nothing will come of you now! A traitor to the name that has given everything to you! You owe us your life and yet you have the nerve to spit on it all! You weak, foul lustful creature with no means to an end!' _

Sirius closed his eyes and leaned up against the velvet curtains hanging on the wall next to him. You would think about how awful the memory of his mother's tirades his mind would like to move on and yet it kept coming back to the forefront of his mind.

He couldn't care less if he was a traitor to the Black name. If anything, it made him proud to be such a strong example of everything they hated. It was the nagging guilt of selfishness that his brother had helped establish.

Even if he did hate the people, the home, and the revolting way of life, he still benefited from it. When people saw him they saw a Black and treated him as such despite the restless attempt to tear himself away from it on both sides of the family. They gave him a name, however a horrible one, but they gave him one nonetheless. What Sirius could not understand was why he was feeling guilty for hating the name which he was built upon. If he hated it, he shouldn't have such deep remorse for feeling that way.

"Oi."

He looked away from the night sky he'd zoned out in and to the boy standing a few away from him near the foot of his bed. It unnerved him slightly knowing he was able to get so close without him noticing.

Remus had a plate in his hands filled with Sirius' favorites. Steak and kidney pudding. Sirius was absolutely  _ starving _ but he couldn't find himself to eat with the turmoil in his head.

"You're going to make yourself sick smoking on an empty stomach."

Sirius gives an incomprehensible shrug. He'll deal with that when it happens. Right now he needed to clear his head. He wasn't exactly known for his impulse control.

Sirius tries his best to keep his eyes away from his friend. They hadn't exactly been alone together since they got back and he knew Remus would want to question him about what had happened at the end of last term. Eye contact would only lure the question out more.

"Want to talk about it?"

Sirius rolled his eyes before blowing out a ring of smoke towards his blonde. Remus makes a face that causes his features to scrunch up.

"Talk about  _ what?  _ Because if you've finally decided to cave in and give me the answers to the Charms homework, I lied. I don't actually have a photo of Evans making out with Snape. I made that up to get James' knickers in a twist."

"My hopes and dreams are destroyed." His voice is completely monotone in response.

Sirius smiles. Remus almost does too but it's obvious he's not going to let the question drop, not hearing him internally beg him to.

"Want one?" Sirius holds up his cigarette case. James had gotten it for him years ago. It was all black save for the silver outline of a large dog on the face of it. Remus just waves it off and settles for sinking himself across from Sirius on the window seat.

"Sirius..."

"Hmm?" He hums, lighting himself another cigarette when the other falls dull.

"Don't you think you should at least  _ acknowledge _ the elephant in the room?"

"No idea what you're talking about, Moons. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Remus huffs deeply while rubbing his face. "God, you're unbelievable, you know that?"

_ I know. But I don't really want to get better if that means I have to answer your questions. _

"Well, they do say my looks are godly if that's what you mean. I'm not sure-"

"Be serious for one. Please. One conversation, that's all I'm asking for and then you can go back to bluffing your way through everything like you're fine like you always do."

For some reason that scratches a hardened nerve inside him, causing him to snap his head around and glare at the other. "I  _ am  _ fine. Don't go looking for things that aren't there. You might start turning out like Lovegood."

Remus wasn't intimidated by the sharp words a bit. He stares back just as deeply and suffocating. "Is admitting that you need help that worse thing in the world for you? We already  _ know. _ You're not revealing some mind-shattering secret. What's the difference between you and one of us doing it?

Sirius bites his tongue. Remus was meddling into things he didn't fully understand and was accusing him of being dramatic about it. This wasn't some petty school-yard fight or crush. He was perfectly in his right to keep this to himself. It was  _ his _ life after all, not theirs.

Remus seems to take the silence as a win. Sirius lets him because he fears if he opens his mouth something he might regret would slip out.

"Why did you do it?"

Sirius is refusing to look at Remus again. His eyes are locked firmly on the dim light radiating from the owlery in the distance. It keeps his mind steady so the question doesn't make his mind wander off into someplace that he won't be able to climb himself back out of.

He removes the dwindling filter from his lips and flicks it out the open window. It seems to take it an age to fall. He watches as the barely lit ember slowly fades of all colour as it trembles in the soft wind before finally finding home in the upturned soil below.

"I don't know."

**&**

**_Hogwarts Hosptial Wing, May 1977_ **

_ "Come on! It has to be...." _

"Mr. Black."

Sirius pauses and grits his teeth. He swears he's going to explode if the mediwitch calls him that one more time. He looks up from his trunk he's tearing through. James and Peter had brought it up earlier that day seeing as his stay in the hospital wing was going to be prolonged. It was the only time he'd been alone all day, or so he had thought, and he had been desperately trying to find that small bit of relief that came in the form of his small, muggle lighter.

_ "What?"  _ He turns around and snaps at the mediwitch. His patience had shortened considerably (and he hadn't had much to begin with) being locked inside the hospital wing for the past week and a half with the increasingly infuriating nurse.

"I checked over your truck before it was given to you. You aren't going to find anything in there."

Sirius' eyes scanned over the contents of his trunk again. He didn't give a hint that he heard the women and instead continued searching. There had to be  _ something...  _ He shoves the books and random bits of parchment around in frustration. When he comes up empty-handed he slams the lid down with a loud groan that's practically a growl. He fucking hated it here. "Great, I'm a prisoner as well as a nutcase now, right?"

"Now, you know that's not the case-"

Sirius gives a dry laugh. "Oh, it isn't now?"

Pomfrey looks at him with a look he knows all too well: sympathy. He hated the sight of it. It made his guts turn viciously.

Sirius shakes his head bitterly as he uses the footboard of the bed to pull his weakened body off the floor. "Don't. Save me the lecture. I already know. No need to tell me twice."

"Do you?"

Sirius throws her a hard glare. He almost wishes she would put him back on whatever mind-numbing potion she had him on in the first got here because now all he could feel was constant anger and frustration towards everyone around him.

_ All of them,  _ especially his friends, kept giving him those looks and lecture him as if he was some pathetic child who couldn't take care of themself. He wasn't and refused to let himself be treated like one but they wouldn't take no for an answer.

They kept asking why, but as soon as he would finally explain they would shoot him down.  _ They  _ were the ones who wouldn't listen and not trying to see his reasoning but expected him to see theirs which was so smothered down with lies and deceit he could hardly breathe. If he wasn't crazy before, he certainly was going to be within the next few days.

He huffs and pulls himself back into his bed, tugging at the thin blanket to come up to his chin. He settles for staring angrily at the blank wall as it was one of his favorite hobbies nowadays. He should have known that he wasn't going to find his lighter. If Popmfery didn't take it, James or Remus would have. And even if was there it wouldn't have lasted long seeing as he was in the bloody hospital wing and she would spot it sooner or later.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid... _

"Mr. Black," the nurse says again with a tinge of impatience. Sirius groans.

"Can't you leave me alone? Don't you have some other kid to talk their ear off? I think I've had my fair share of it today." He grabs a pillow and holds it over his ear not pressed against the mattress. It's not worse seeing as she doesn't move an inch.

"How often do you have the urge to harm yourself?"

It was a trick question. She wanted something to keep him in here indefinitely. "What does it matter to you? Don't want me to make your job harder? Not like it matters with me locked up in here like some kind of animal."

"Please answer the question."

Sirius shoves his head further inside the pillow. He knew the answer of course but it was nerve-racking actually thinking it. She was pecking at his brain, finding the most vulnerable parts to jab at. Wasn't she supposed to be making him feel better?

_ Never. A little. A lot. All the time. It's all I can think about. _

"Barely. It doesn't happen often. It doesn't help you've got me trapped. What else am I supposed to think about?" He huffs angrily. She clicks her tongue at the obvious lie. The same way his mother does. Unconsciously, he pulls his knees a little closer to his chest.

"You do realize you're allowed to be hurt? It's fair enough considering what you have been through. No one is going to think any less of you. Your friends included. If anything, I believe they would be very happy with you opening up."

He squeezes his hand into a fist under the sheets while his back still to the nurse. The words affect him much deeper than he thought they would. He  _ knows _ all of it of course, but... It seems too good to be true. All he can think about is his father's heavy hand colliding against his teary cheek from a young age for acting so 'pitiful'. It's embarrassing - no  _ mortifying.  _ It was like being stripped of all your clothes and blasted with a hose for everyone to see.

"Sure, whatever." He shrugs her off in an attempt to get her to leave him alone. It doesn't ever work but he doesn't stop trying.

He hears a rattle of bottles being mushed around in the witch's apron from behind him. "I can add a potion for that if you'll like. It can stifle the urges."

"Depends if I'm going to feel like an inferi for the rest of my life. Others have those you know."

"Only because of sheer luck."

The comment is cold and sharp reminding him of the incident on the astronomy tower. He'd walked into that one though so he couldn't complain.

He didn't regret that night. He still wished he'd have another go at it despite what he told everyone. If he had the chance he'd go for it. He'll only have to be a bit more careful next time. The only reason the comment stung was the reminder of grief he'd pushed onto his friends. He'd see Remus' panicked face and his throat would tighten.

"Drink these. The blue is calming draught, green is the weight-gain, purple is numbing. Take them in that order. Don't think I won't know if you don't. And I'll write for some of that potion from St. Mungos too." She places the vials on his bedstand before slipping out of the room. Sirius doesn't move for them.

The hours tick by slowly on the clock. Eventually, it's dinner and James, Remus, and Peter are all stuffed in the small room with him as they had been for the past week. Peter had brought him a plate of food, the meat already pre-cut and his silverware transfigured into plastic into a way that would make his snobbish parents have a heart attack, and sets in his lap. He can only manage to eat a few bites before his stomach cramps painfully and he can't take anymore. None of them are surprised but James still tries to get him to eat a little bit more, which he snaps at for treating him like a child. He can see the worry pass between his friends wordlessly and his chest constricts.

"Mum's almost finished with the paperwork. She says you'll be an official part of the Potter household before summer starts. It's really just bureaucracy now, you know trying to get them to sign the really important ones." James rambles on nervously at the foot of his bed.

He's delighted, really. The news is the only good thing that had happened to him in days. He loves Potter Manor with all his heart. Mr. and Mrs. Potter treated him better than his family from the second they met him than his family ever did in his entire life. But as always, there was the lurking underneath the calm waters. He could hear it saying that he didn't deserve it or that James didn't really want him there and was only offering to be nice. Sometimes that voice was his own (when the self-loathing was at its worse) and others it was a whisper coming from below threatening to swallow him whole.

James senses the conversation becoming a little heavier so from there he manages to switch it to a prank the three of them managed to pull off in the courtyard earlier that evening. They had charmed the fountain to spit soap suds when Slytherins walked past it. Remus shows him the polaroid picture he'd taken with a boyish grin. They had all got detention from McGonagall scrubbing cauldrons 'since you're so concerned or the cleanliness of the school'. Sirius smiles at that somehow despite everything. The three of them were brilliant at keeping him distracted.

When they leave (more so kicked-out on the warning of missing curfew) and Sirius is alone finally, he stares up at the ceiling in the dark room illuminated by the moon. And it occurs to him that he hadn't been caught in his own thoughts for hours. 


End file.
